


Vids, or it didn’t happen (blame it on the meds)

by armchairpsychologist



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, F/F, Post-Episode: s04e11 If-Then-Else, Seeing Her Again for the First Time Youtube video, Shaw has no filter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8832865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armchairpsychologist/pseuds/armchairpsychologist
Summary: While in hospital, Sameen gets a visit from her wife....Wait, what?Based on the ‘Seeing Her Again for the First Time’ video on Youtube (which is hilarious and adorable: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqebEymqFS8). Some dialogue is used from that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as I watched that video I was hit with a bolt of must-write-that-now. It's first story I've posted in this fandom. Hopefully more to come sooner rather than later.  
> 

_Accessing archive data:_  
_Date selected: [redacted]_  
_Location: [redacted]_  
_Time: 23.16 [EST]_

_[Begin playback]_

_Locating Analogue Interface._  
_Searching GPS data…_  
_Multiple hits acquired._  
_Triangulating signal…_  
_Analogue Interface located: [redacted]_  
_Accessing local feeds…_

A camera pans to focus on a tall, agitated woman in a rumpled business skirt-suit and tired-looking orderly holding a clipboard.

“…Sameen Grey? Do you know what room she’s in?”

“I’m afraid it’s family only, Ms….?”

“It’s _Mrs._ actually. _Mrs. Grey_.” She holds up a driver’s license. It lists the woman’s name as Harriet Grey, 35, of Wisconsin, Illinois.

“Oh-I, I apologise Mrs. Grey, of course you can go right on in. The doctor will be with her shortly. Her charts show she wasn’t responding to the standard medication so we had to up the dosage. She’s on fairly heavy duty pain meds, so please don’t be alarmed if she seems a little out of it.”

“But she’s alright?”

“The surgery was successful and there weren’t any complications. The prognosis is encouraging. The doctor will be able to tell you more.”

“Thank you nurse…thank you.” Relief lines Mrs. Grey’s face as she draws a shuddering breath and bravely straightens her shoulders.

“No need Mrs. Grey, go on in now. Try and get her to suck these ice chips. She’ll be dehydrated from the surgery. And I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”

The camera focuses in on the brunette’s brief quirk of lips.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

The woman disappears inside the room behind the nurse.

_Visual lost.  
Transferring feed…_

The camera focuses on a bed. A dark-haired woman, unhealthily pale, lies beneath the white hospital sheets, her eyes closed. Mrs. Grey enters and seats herself in the chair beside the bed, clutching the cup of ice chips tightly in one hand.

“Oh sweetie,” she breathes, reaching out to brush back a lock of the other woman’s hair, before hesitating at the last moment and withdrawing. “You had me scared for a minute there. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

The woman on the bed groans, moving restlessly, and slowly opens her eyes, eyelids fluttering rapidly against the harsh lighting. Her face screws up as she licks her lips. “Whrr-” she slurs, eyes roving wide and unfocused around the room.

“Heey there sleepyhead,” the brunette straightens, her face lighting up as she edges nearer, and brings herself into the prone woman’s line of sight. “How are you feeling?”

“M’ead ‘urs…” the woman mumbles, squinting. “I need medicin’.”

“I know sweetie. The doctor’s on his way,” the brunette leans down, smoothing the lines of the crumpled bedsheet. “Here, have some ice, it’ll make you feel better.” She plucks up a small piece and holds it to the woman’s lips. “Open the hanger-door…” she sing-songs, with a wide impish grin. Sameen Grey blinks owlishly and silently accepts the offering. The brunette pauses, seemingly not to have expected the woman’s compliance and then beams happily.

“Did th’doctor send you?” The woman slurs, dark eyes narrowing with startling clarity on her companion. The brunette’s brow furrows as she tentatively eyes the other woman. “…man, you are eye- _candy_.” 

‘Mrs Grey’ freezes, eyes widening to the point that the whites of her eyes are clearly visible on camera as her mouth drops open. She utters a short disbelieving laugh, expression wavering between shock and amusement.

The woman on the bed blinks slowly again, staring with a strange raptor-like intensity slightly muffled by grade-A painkillers pumping through her system. “Wh-oa.” She pauses, eyes roaming the room as she battles for words. “You’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

The brunette’s mouth works silently, no words forming in response.

“Are you a model?” Sameen continues, scanning the brunette with the same raptor-intensity.

“Uh, no. I’m not a, uh model.” The brunette manages finally, blinking as though poleaxed.

“Huh.” The other blinks slowly, and opens her mouth to take another piece of ice. “Y’should be,” she mumbles. The brunette bites her lip, now holding back a smile.

“Oh really,” she purrs, looking extremely pleased. “I had no idea you were such a smooth-talker Sameen…” she adds in an amused undertone.

“Who are you, what’s your name?” Sameen continues, peering up at her as though trying to solve a particularly perplexing puzzle.

“My name’s Root.” The brunette’s eyes glitter with amusement as she leans in even closer. “I’m your wife,” she reveals in a loud conspiratorial whisper.

Sameen’s head rolls towards the brunette. “No way,” she drawls, eyebrows shooting to the top of her forehead, although her face otherwise remains relatively static. “You’re _my_ wife?”

Her ‘wife’ nods earnestly, successfully masking a ridiculously large grin behind a strategically placed hand.

“Holy shit,” Sameen mutters, eyes roving over the other woman with awed (though disoriented) fascination. “How’d I get so lucky? You. Are. Seri-ous-ly. Hot.”

Her wife looks delighted. “Awww Sameen, you are _such_ a sweetheart,” she coos, resting her chin on an upturned palm as she gazes dotingly down at the injured woman. “Thank you.” She carefully places another ice chip on the woman’s bottom lip. 

“Seriously hot,” Sameen repeats, eyeing the brunette’s form admiringly as she crunches on the ice. Root’s face winces at the sound. “ _Seriously…ho_ -w long we been married?” she asks, abruptly changing thought tract midway through her sentence. 

“Hmm….it feels like forever.” Root muses nostalgically, deflecting the question like a pro. “You should have some more ice,” she takes great delight in feeding another ice chip to her ‘wife’ and her touches linger longer than strictly necessary.

Sameen digests this news in silence for a few moments, her eyes fluttering closed. Then they open again as a thought strikes. “D’we have kids?”

“Kids?” The brunette chokes, chin slipping from its resting place as her knee jerks in surprise. “Uh, no, no kids,” Root recovers, straightening her shirt and smoothing her skirt to buy time. “At least, not yet…” she manages to recover with a playful leer.

“Oh man,” Sameen mutters, staring at Root’s face with an unnerving focus. Root visibly preens under the attention. Sameen’s eyes narrow suddenly. “…Have we kissed yet?” Her ‘wife’ turns a vibrant shade of red, clear even on the screen’s resolution.

“I, we-that’s sort of…well, it’s-it’s complicated-”

Sameen’s eyes narrow to an almost comical degree. “I never kissed you?” She appears to mull that over while Mrs Grey fidgets uncomfortably, fussing unnecessarily with the bedsheets (again). “Am I an idiot? Why haven’t I kissed you?” Her eyebrows furrow in sudden thought. “You don’t want to kiss me?”

“No!” Root blurts out-far more loudly than necessary. “I mean, that’s not, I really- but you- I mean, we _almost_ sort of…” she trails off, apparently lost for words.

“C’mere, let me see your face,” Sameen orders, reaching out with a single unsteady hand. It makes it in the general direction of the other woman, but nowhere near close enough to win any prizes. Root complies with the demand anyway, breath held as she coyly dips her head downward. “Wow. _You_. Are a _looker_.”

“Thanks Sameen,” Root purrs, recovering enough to coyly flutter her eyelashes. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Sameen appears to be staring at her ‘wife’s’ lips with intense concentration. It's unclear if she’s even listening to the other woman.

“Can we sit up at all?”

Root smirks, apparently seeing the direction the injured woman’s mind is heading in. “Just lay back and have some ice, sweetie. The doctor will be here soon.” Sameen grunts discontentedly and rebelliously shifts on the mattress, before wincing. “Lay still, okay? You might hurt yourself.”

“Turn ‘round for a sec,” Sameen directs, ignoring Root’s concern and awkwardly craning her neck as she tries to catch a glimpse of the other woman’s backside.

“Sameen!” Root half gasps/laughs in thoroughly (mock) scandalised amusement. “Ah do _de-clare_ ,” she says, affecting a thick Southern Belle accent. “You are _incorrigible_.”

“Just a sec,” Sameen persists. Root smirks, the expression one which would make any sober person seriously question its motivations, but remarkably has little impact on the drugged woman.

“If I give you a spin will you _stop_ moving?”

“Mhm,” Sameen agrees immediately, stilling against the bed.

Root smirks again. She stands from the bed, carefully brushing out the creases forming in her skirt, eyes fixed squarely on the other woman. She spins in a slow circle, skirt gently fanning out as she twirls. The look on Sameen’s face can be best classed as ‘glazed’ and seems not to be solely thanks to the drugs.

“Married. An’ I never tapped that. I. Am. An idiot.”

“Well, no one’s perfect,” Root agrees, peering at the other woman through lowered lashes with a deliberately sultry look before demurely perching on the edge of the patient’s bed and folding both hands in her lap. She looks immensely pleased with herself. Again. “Every marriage has its issues to work through,” Root continues, suspiciously earnest.

Sameen groans. “M’an idiot,” she mumbles again, thumping her head against the stacked pillows before flinching and then inhaling sharply. 

“I know it hurts sweetie.” A hesitant look flashes very briefly over Root’s face before she reaches out to gently stroke the pained lines of the other woman’s brow. “Just take it easy,” she soothes. “Lay still.”

“M’tired.” Sameen grumbles, eyes half-lidded like a cat being petted as she subtly tilts her face into the touches. “I want to leave.”

“Just close your eyes and relax, okay?” Root suggests, gingerly edging closer. “I’ll be right here.” 

“I wanna g’home with you now,” Sameen grumbles again, although she has stilled beneath the other woman’s ministrations.

Root fumbles, a vulnerable expression flashing too quickly to notice across her face.

“I didn’t say you could stop,” Sameen growls, half-asleep.

“I didn’t hear a please in there, Mrs. Grumpy-Grey,” Root teases, recovering. Her voice softens as she nevertheless continues to sooth her ‘wife’. The tension slowly begins to drain away from Sameen’s body. She eventually seems to fall asleep. Root slows and finally stops, carefully removing her hand. She watches the smooth, untroubled lines of the injured woman’s face for a long time in silence, then smiles a very private smile. 

She finally looks up and directly into the camera and raises an eyebrow. “Please tell me you can make a copy of that.” She tilts her head as though listening to something. “Will you upload it to my phone, please?” She smiles even more brightly. “Thank _you_.”

_[Archive data playback end: 45.32]_

In the darkened room, only the glow of the laptop provides any light. Root blinks as the footage ends and the screen goes black. She swallows thickly around the scream threatening to fight its way free from the depths of her throat, and draws a long, shuddering breath. “Play it again.”


End file.
